Waiting Time
by tracyh
Summary: What is going on in Derek Shepherd's head in Drowning on Dry Land? Rated T for vague sex mention. I know this will be done to death, but I don't care. Please read and review.


**Waiting Time**

A/N Welcome to my first Grey's Anatomy fic. I'm a British fan of the show. As we've not long finished season 2 on LivingTV over here, I'm currently getting my Grey's fix by downloading season 3….cheating I know, but what's a girl to do?

Actually this really isn't my first Grey's fic. I started one last week, essentially my version of the three-part story we're currently seeing. How great are these episodes???? However, it turns out that what I wrote is scarily similar to what has happened, albeit with some changes here and there, so I'm unsure whether to post it for now. Let me know in reviews of this whether you want to see the other story. If you want it, I'll upload it. Anyway, for now I'm going to have a go at a one-shot from Derek's perspective. I was inspired by Patrick Dempsey's performance in Drowning On Dry Land, especially when Derek is thrown out of the trauma room and is sitting in the hallway, so I thought I'd try to write what is going on in his head. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: Me own Grey's Anatomy? Of course I….don't!

_Meredith_…._Meredith_….._Meredith_…….

Her name keeps going round in my head, each syllable a steady rhythm, like the beating of a drum….or a heart. Then I remember. Her heart _isn't_ beating, she isn't breathing. She's lying in a trauma room, freezing cold, her beautiful skin snow white and her perfect lips almost purple. The thought scares the hell out of me so I try to shut it out, retreat into this place where everything seems to be unreal and in slow motion, and for a moment it works. But then I'm jolted back to reality and my mind grasps onto the only thing it seems to know at the moment, her name. It feels like if I can just think it enough it will keep her with me. The insistent thumping of her name in my mind will somehow transform itself into the beating of her heart.

I can't remember how long I've been sitting here on the floor in the hallway next to the room where my girlfriend is fighting for her life, where colleagues and friends who have witnessed all the ups and downs of my relationship with Meredith are working on her. Is it a few minutes? Hours? Days? I don't know any more. All I know is that she's in there and I'm out here. I've left her _again_. Having told her that I'd always show up, I've left her alone again. I begin to pray that I'll get the chance to put all of it right, that I'll have time to show her how sorry, truly sorry, I am for leaving her to try to save my marriage, which was already long gone, and that I'll be able to beg forgiveness for not looking for her sooner at the docks and for leaving her now, when she needs me the most. I tell myself that if she can just get through this, if she can just come back to me, I'll never let her out of my sight again.

I keep turning everything over in my mind. Looking for Meredith at the docks and seeing a patient being taken away. My eye is drawn to the jacket covering him. I see an identification badge on the front. The picture is of Meredith, my Meredith. Suddenly I feel afraid, of what, I don't know. I just know I have to find her. Then I see a little girl, the same little girl I'd seen earlier, clinging on to Meredith. I knew that if anyone knows where Meredith is, she does. But then I'm distracted by a paramedic with a patient on a stretcher. I respond to him quickly, almost dismissively, before I look for the little girl again. I see her, and, taking off the latex gloves I'd worn to treat patients, I go over to her.

People tell me I'm good with kids. I suppose I should be. I have an army of nephews and nieces and four younger sisters. I've always had kids around. I wanted a child of our own with my wife, _ex_-wife, I should say. In retrospect I'm glad she wasn't ready early in our marriage when I was. Our break-up after eleven years was messy enough without an innocent child getting caught in the cross-fire. Still, I hope one day…maybe when the time is right, Meredith and I…..

I push the thought away to speak to the little girl, who looks lost and bewildered by all the activity going on around her. I ask her if she's okay. She stares at me. I ask her if the doctor…Meredith… brought her here. Again she stares blankly at me. I know I have to keep calm, getting frustrated with a traumatised child won't help, so, deliberately keeping my tone light, I ask her if Meredith is okay. My heart jumps in my chest when she shakes her head.

I'm beginning to get scared, really scared. Something is telling me that something is wrong here, really wrong. I can see the little girl is becoming anxious. I gently coax her to tell me where Meredith is, knowing this is taking too long, but scared to push too hard. She looks around as if she's trying to remember before she takes off. I follow her and soon we stop at the edge of the dock. Suddenly I know where Meredith is, but I need the girl to tell me. Forcing myself to reflect calmness I don't feel, I ask her once more where exactly Meredith is. She stares blankly at the water for just a second and then she points with a finger. I follow the finger automatically. I swallow and I can't help the tears that are starting to form in my eyes. My Meredith is in the ocean. The stillness of the water almost seems to mock me as I look out at it.

I don't remember taking off my jacket. I don't remember climbing down the steps that lead to the waters edge. I can't recollect the moment when I jumped into the water, or even the exact time I found her. All I remember is that what could have been just a few minutes or a few hours later, I swam back to the surface, gasping for breath against the icy water and clinging to the body of the woman I love.

I don't think the reality of the situation really hit me. I just remember cradling Meredith in my arms and carrying her up the steps of the dock, her head resting against mine. Then I see a coastguard with the little blonde girl. Then everything starts to spin out of control.

An ambulance appears out of nowhere. I get in with Meredith telling the driver to get us to Seattle Grace. Seeing I am a doctor and that Meredith is in a bad way, he does as he is told. We're racing, sirens blaring, but all I can see now is Meredith. I put her down on the stretcher in the ambulance and my mind seems to go into automatic. I can see nothing but Meredith and I know nothing other than the fact that she isn't breathing. Nothing else exists for me now as I begin CPR, knowing that I'd do it for however long it took. Meredith needed me and I wasn't going to let her down. Not again.

Soon the ambulance driver tells me we'll be at the hospital in five minutes. I barely register his voice. I continue to give Meredith CPR and administer the drugs I know should help her. I'm reacting purely on what I know. I do the things I've done hundreds of times at work, but I know this time is different. This time I'm working on Meredith, the woman I'd give my life for if she'd just breathe for me. I feel as if nothing is real any more except Meredith and the need for her heart to beat and for her to take a breath. She doesn't, she just lies there, still and pale. I know what this could mean. As a neurosurgeon I know how little time a person without oxygen has before brain damage begins to set in. I also know that she is cold, very cold. I know that in cold conditions like the water Meredith was in for God knows how long, the body can go into a state almost like hibernation. I tell myself that she is alive, she's still with me and I'm not ready to give her up. I focus on nothing but Meredith. As I give CPR, my hands pressing down on her chest, I don't even think of other times, better times, when I've touched her, or planted gentle kisses from her lips all the way down between her breasts before going lower to kiss her in more intimate places when we make love. For now, in this moment when I can do nothing but think and feel Meredith, all I know is that she has to live.

We arrive at the hospital. I hear Miranda Bailey's voice, strong and controlled, and somehow I'm filled with panic. She sees me but asks the driver what we've got. He says the patient is a Jane Doe, the name we use for all female patients when they have no I.D., and she's hypothermic. The man is talking about Meredith as if she's just another patient! I can't stand it and I tell him, 'She's not a Jane Doe, she's Meredith Grey!' I turn to Miranda, Meredith's Resident, her boss, as Meredith told me so often when we first started this thing between us, before she found out I was married. I look into Miranda's eyes and say 'It's Meredith', in a voice I hardly recognise as my own. All the time I'm doing CPR, I can't, won't stop. Miranda looks stunned for a second, I hear her say my name and then she gets into the ambulance, asking how long Meredith's been down. I tell her I don't know and then I'm scared. I'm terrified that she'll tell me to stop, force me to take my hands off Meredith, tell me it's already too late. I keep saying 'she's alive, she's alive' and I don't know any more if I'm trying to convince Miranda or myself.

I'm becoming consumed by terror, I feel the sort of fear that I had a glimpse of the day of the Code Black incident when I had to operate on Bailey's husband. Cristina Yang, Meredith's friend, came into the O.R. where I was working to save Tucker's life so he could live to see his first child, and, after she'd evaded my question about how the girl holding the bomb, which was inside a patient, was getting on, she blurted out that it was Meredith. I froze for a second, turning my back on my patient on the table, scared out of my mind that the girl I knew I loved, the girl I'd left alone to save my marriage, was in another O.R. holding an unexploded bomb in her hands. Then Tucker flat-lined and I was jolted back to reality. I had a job to do. This time it's worse. This time Meredith could die in front of me, her life is literally hanging by the thinnest thread and I just can't let her give up. _I _can't give up. I can't lose her, not now. I hear Miranda saying she needs me to help her get Meredith inside. She's trying to make me get a grip on myself. I know she's trying to help me to help Meredith, but it doesn't really register to me. I take my hands away from Meredith just for the slightest second to help with the stretcher, Miranda calling to get a trauma bay cleared and then, as we go inside, I'm doing CPR again.

We get to the trauma room. I know inside that I'm starting to fall apart. Up to now, I've been the one fighting to get Meredith back, I needed to do it. Now we're here, at the hospital and there are others just as capable as me of helping her, but I don't want to let go, not yet. I automatically start giving Miranda and the team in the room instructions, things that in my urgency I tell myself they have to do to give Meredith a chance. I tell them the things I've persuaded myself I've seen in her on the way here. It starts to feel inside as if I'm falling, and I'm powerless to stop it. Miranda can see that I'm losing it, I know she can. I know she knows as well as I do, when you're trying to get a patient back from the brink of death, there is nothing worse than a hysterical relative or friend in the way. She ignores my instructions, not to be defiant, but to keep control of the situation. She knows that I can't think straight any more. She tells me that she'll put a central line in, but I need to get out of the way. I ignore her, carrying on giving instructions and she says my name firmly. I hear the door of the trauma room open, the Chief comes in and says 'Shepherd, get out'. His voice is soft and yet commanding. Without even questioning it I stand back from Meredith on the table and the Chief takes my place. Still I can't let go yet. I carry on telling them all the things they should do, anything to hold off the moment when I know I'll have to leave. 'Shepherd _get out_' I hear again, this time not so soft, like he means it. I put my hand on Meredith again just for a second, brushing through her hair like I do every morning when she wakes up. I give one last instruction, which the Chief ignores. 'We need to save her life', he says, 'You can't do this, we need to do this, now go'. This is the moment when I know I'm really going to lose it any second. I brush my hand into Meredith's hair again and exchange a quick look with Bailey. She looks back at me with a look that tells me that if I don't get out she'll drag me out. I hesitate, knowing that if I leave, the last bit of control I have will fall away.

'Go' the Chief says again. This time I know this is it. I have to leave Meredith. I know she's in good hands, I've known Richard Webber, Seattle Grace's Chief of Surgery, for years. I know he's known Meredith since she was a child. I know that the Chief knows what loving someone with the surname Grey feels like. He understands the depth of love I feel for the little woman on the bed in front of me. This little woman, who might be just a first year intern, but who is more than capable of holding my heart and soul in her hands. As much as I hate myself for doing it, as much as I want to stay, just to be near Meredith, I know I can't. I know I'm in the way. Brushing past Richard, gripping his shoulders for a second, trying to ask him without words to bring her back for me, I leave the room. I want to look back, but I can't. I know that if I do, I won't be able to leave. The door swings shut behind me and then I'm alone in the hallway. It is then that everything crashes over me. I flop down onto the floor, leaning against a wall in the narrow hallway, opposite a picture on the other wall of the Space Needle. Bending my legs up at the knee, I put my head in my hands and begin to cry.

I sit there for what seems like hours, alone, crying for Meredith, for me and for all the time we've missed out on, time when I should have been with her, and would have been but for some stupid pointless exercise of trying to do the right thing and save my marriage, even though I knew I'd made the wrong choice. I cry because we've been so happy since we got back together, for this to happen now is just unfair. I cry because this morning I dragged Meredith out of the bottom of the bathtub. Already it seems like a million years ago. I went in after her just by chance and there she was, in the tub, her beautiful body submerged completely under the water. I remember calling her and getting no response. I'd known she was upset about something her mother said to her on a day when she was completely lucid for the first time in five years, and now her mother faced major surgery, but Meredith...for her to do this, it scared me. She insisted it was nothing; she wasn't trying to kill herself. 'You're not my knight in shining whatever' she'd said to me. I remember kissing her, taking her little face in my hands. 'I am your knight in shining whatever' I'd said, before leaving for work without her. I promise myself, if she can just get through this, I'll spend the rest of my life being her knight in shining whatever, I'll be whatever she wants me to be as long as she doesn't leave me alone.

I begin to say her name over and over in my head, my lips silently forming it, like some form of prayer or meditation. I'm still saying it when I hear Preston Burke, Head of Cardiothoracic Surgery. 'The Chief's working on her right?' he asks. I rub my eyes as I reply, not wanting him to see the tears that don't seem in any hurry to stop now they've started. 'He threw me out' I say, as if I need to explain why I'm not with her. 'What do you need?' Preston asks. I sit down on my backside, moving from where I'd been almost kneeling. I'm breathing rapidly and I catch a small breath. I look up at Preston Burke, a man who I've competed with in a stupid race to replace the Chief, who then decided he wasn't going to retire, the man who I've argued with over monopolising the O.R. This man who got shot and needed me to save the use of his hand who then hid a tremor from me that I should have seen any way and then blamed me for it when it all blew up in his face and then gave in and came to me for help. This man who is decent and honourable, and, as a man, worth ten of me. This man who is one of the finest cardiothoracic surgeons in the world. I want to tell him that I need Meredith, just Meredith, but the words won't form in my mind, let alone my mouth. Instead I say, 'I need you to go in there'. I'm panting now, the fear and separation from Meredith hurting more than I can express. Preston nods and turns from me, going into the trauma room and I'm alone again.

I'm lost in thoughts and silent prayers again until I register that someone has walked up to me. I know who it is without even looking, but I glance up quickly. It's Mark, my former best friend, the man I'd been friends with since we were kids, until I found him in bed with my wife. Now as I sit, that time seems to vanish, rubbed away by this thing, this agony of waiting for news of Meredith. I nod slightly to acknowledge that even though I'm not looking at him, I know Mark is here, for me. The thought brings more tears and I wipe them away with a finger. Then Mark reaches out and squeezes my arm for a second. I nod again, and then we're sitting together, no words between us, but now I feel a little less alone. I'm still frightened out of my mind, I still want to be in that trauma room with Meredith, rather than out here doing nothing for her, but Mark is here and I'm not so alone.

The door to the trauma room suddenly swings open. I look up as someone goes into the room. I look up quickly, just to try to see what's going on. This waiting is starting to make me feel crazy, but then, as the door begins to close, I see someone whose presence shocks me. Addison, my ex-wife. She turns as the door opens, and sees me. We exchange a look, me shocked to see her even though I know her skills go far beyond her speciality of OBY/GYN and her looking like she's watching the world come to an end. We exchange a look that says everything and nothing at the same time and I know she understands the pain I'm in. She knows that in the end I couldn't try to save our marriage any more because I loved someone else, the little woman who had a drink with me in a bar one night and took me back to her place for a one-night stand, the woman who I discovered was an intern at the hospital where I'm an Attending. This tiny little person who I need more than anyone else in the world, and who, if she loses the fight to live, I won't be able to live without. I can see from Addison's face that she knows these things and it scares her. Then the door swings closed again.

I sit here again, with Mark, and bow my head again. The only thing in my head again is one word, which my mind focuses on. Meredith.

A/N There we are, a one-shot. I have an idea for a story based on the aftermath of all this, the effect that this will have on Derek and Meredith's relationship. I feel sure that Derek is going to feel incredibly guilty when all this is over, guilty that he has had to leave Meredith alone etc, even though it was him who went into the water after her, I think he'll compare it with leaving her to go back and try with Addison. I think he'll over compensate with Meredith in some ways (see I reckon she'll live!) and hold back from her in others. I think it might make a good AU-ish story. Review this, and say if you want the story in my head written and uploaded, and I'll see what I can do. Oh, and any reviewers will receive replies. I'm pretty good like that.


End file.
